


Isolation

by TheOracle



Series: Grace Under Pressure [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Banter, F/M, Fluff, Isolation, Longing, Not-So Sole Survivor, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23827948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOracle/pseuds/TheOracle
Summary: A rad-storm catches out Nick and SS while they're walking though the Commonwealth. Having to hole up together, the hours stretch out seemingly forever. This is how they keep themselves occupied.
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Series: Grace Under Pressure [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719127
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know that there must be about a bazillion fics out there to do with isolating. This is mine. It is proving to be surprising cathartic to write.

The rad storm had whipped its way across the landscape with such sudden ferocity that the fact that they’d both managed to scramble their way blindly to shelter was a miracle. Grace’s Pip-Boy was clicking so wildly that it was starting to sound more like a buzz. She and Nick had barged into the first building they could find. The storm had darkened everything, swirling particles of irradiated dust into their eyes. Nick was reduced to little more than a slightly darker shadow that lingered near her back.

  
“Careful now,” she heard his warning over the crackle of lightning. “If there’s ferals in here, the rads will have gotten them riled up.”

  
“If there’s ferals in here, I won’t even see them coming. It’s too damn hard to see,” she coughed back. Her throat and lungs were already aching from the rads. Adjusting her pistol, Grace fumbled with her Pip-Boy and managed to get the light on. Instead of everything being dark and blurry, everything was immediately just…blurry. Well, it was better than nothing.

  
“I’ll go first," Nick said from behind her.

  
She heard him shift closer and then felt the thin metal of his hand around her arm as he slid by her. He was close enough in front of her that she could make out his wide shoulders and the silhouette of his hat. Grace grabbed on to the belt of his jacket as he started to walk forward. She tightened her grip on her gun.

If there was one thing in the wastelands that Grace feared the most, it was feral ghouls. The first time she had stumbled across them was while she was making her way down towards Diamond City in search of Nate. She had kept to the trees and grasses along the road, only stepping out into the open when there was no other cover available. Dogmeat had started growling when they hit Lexington, but she couldn’t see what he was growling at, as she'd picked her way through the scattered skeletons that littered every square inch of the Commonwealth.

  
Until they had started moving.

  
She had unloaded two clips, screaming, before she managed to run; but they were faster. If it wasn’t for Dogmeat, Grace would have been torn apart by them. She still had scars down her back from their clawed hands. Just the memory of it caused her to break out into a cold sweat, her heart trying to beat its way out of her throat.

  
They made their way down what seemed to be a corridor, without incident. She wasn’t even sure what kind of building they’d broken into. There was no large sacks of bloodied organs or skewered bodies - from what she could see when they had entered - so she figured they’d hopefully not be walking right into a room full of Raiders or Super Mutants.

  
Hopefully.

  
They reached a doorway. “Get ready,” Nick whispered. Grace turned off the light on her Pip-Boy and gave one sharp tug on his belt. She heard the click and creak of the door as it opened.

  
“All clear,” Nick confirmed after a tense minute of silence. Grace let out the breath she was holding. She trusted Nicks sensors more than her own eyes. “Better do a sweep of the room, just in case.”

  
Grace turned her light back on and they both carefully made their way around the room. It was a standard post-war living room from what she could tell. There was a tattered couch upended in the corner. The floor was covered in bits of wood and plaster from the crumbling ceiling and shards of glass from the blown-out windows. No bodies though. No smell other than the sharp, acrid bite of the storm and the mustiness of a 200 year old, mouldering room. When they were both satisfied that there was nothing scarier than a rather impressive collection of nudie magazines that Nick had stumbled on, they shut the door behind them and secured the windows as best they could. The storm still crackled outside but they managed to block out most of the flying debris.

  
“Well, I guess we should try to get settled in,” Nick drawled.

  
Grace glanced around the room. After a minute she turned back to him and gave him a half-hearted shrug and a smile. “We’ve camped out in worse places.”

  
“Yeah….that’s not saying much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how many chapters there will be. I guess we'll see how long the inspiration lasts.


	2. Chapter 2

It took them about an hour to clear out a decent space to sit. They righted the couch and found it not to be in too terrible a state. Once the broken beer bottles and stacks of ‘Busty Broads” magazines were cleared to the side, Grace flopped down onto tattered couch.

“Well, I think we can guess how one guy decided to see out bombs, huh?”

Nick grimaced down at the magazines before covering them over with a scrap of curtain. He looked over to where Grace was slumped on the couch. “Radaway,” he said, walking over to her.

“No, I think he was masturbating,” she responded. Nick barked out a laugh.

“I mean _you_ need Radaway, wiseass. You were sucking down a lot of rads out there. Still are, if your Pip-Boy and my Geiger aren’t off.”

He stooped down and picked up the backpack Grace had dropped next to her, unloading its contents onto the ground. She scrambled up as soon as she heard the clatter of her hard-won collection falling to the floor.

“Careful, there’s some really valuable stuff in there!”

“Oh yeah?” Nick knelt down to start sorting through the pile. “Let me guess. Is it the Vault-Tec lunchbox or the Grognak comic that’s gonna help us most in taking down the Institute?”

“Both are equally vital tools in the war,” she said, snatching back the comic he held up in his hand. Nick just chuckled and kept sifting through.

“Here we go,” he said, as he held up a repurposed blood bag filled with amber coloured liquid that had the words RADAWAY hastily scrawled over it in black pen. In his good hand, there was a sterilized stimpack plunger, which had been long since emptied of its contents.

Grace sighed and, sitting back, started pulling up the bottom edge of her shirt from where it was tucked into her jeans. “Any excuse to get under my shirt with you, Nick.”

“Aw geez, you got me all figured out sweetheart,” was his sardonic reply.

She watched as he concentrated on filling the syringe, tapping out the air bubbles and releasing just enough until the dosage was just right. Nick had become a bit of an expert in administering shots and first aid, since he’d started following her around. Probably due to her being, and she quotes, ‘the hardest damn human to keep alive’ in the Commonwealth.

“Try not to swoon too hard while I do this,” he muttered as he balanced the plunger in his good hand, while he pushing her shirt a little further up with his other.

The metal of his fingers lightly scraped over the skin on her stomach, causing every muscle to twitch as a shiver shimmered down the back of her neck and pooled into a sudden heat in her belly. He might have been joking about the swooning part, but Grace thought he’d be shocked as hell to know that the way her body reacted around him at times like this, he wasn’t far off. Her cheeks were hot and her heart was hammering, even as she lifted her eyes to the patchy ceiling above her, as Nick gently eased the needle into the muscle above her hip.

“There we go. All done,” he announced and then, unconsciously, his metal hand came down to rub a thumb lightly over the injection site, as if to sooth it over. Grace couldn’t contain the shaky little gasp that came out of her at feel of his hands on her sensitive skin. Nicks yellow eyes flicked to hers in consternation and then, looking back down, realised what he was doing and quickly pulled his hand away. Her skin still tingled from his touch.

“Ah, sorry bout that,” he said, standing up and scratching the back of his neck, every line of his body projecting embarrassment. “Hope I didn’t hurt ya.”

“No…course not,” she whispered back. Nick made a little awkward coughing sound, like he was clearing his throat. He was suddenly very interested in the scuffed toe of his shoe.

“Should get you some water for that. Maybe take a few Rad-X too if this storm keeps up, just to be on the safe side.” He crouched and went back to picking through the contents of her backpack. He laid aside a dark blue pill bottle and a couple of bottles of purified water.

After a moment Grace realised that she was still lying back against the couch, her shirt pulled up to her chest and her stomach bared to the room. She quickly pulled her shirt down and tucked it back in, hoping her face didn’t look as flushed as it felt. Something flew in her direction and she fumbled to catch it, the item hitting off her open hand and falling into her lap. It was a fairly well-preserved tin of pork n beans.

“Might wanna grab something to eat too. We may be here a while.” Nick smirked at her from under the brim of his hat as he started packing everything away. Grace was still a little too flustered to reply. Instead, she pulled a switch knife from her back pocket and started to work on prying back the lid.

Outside the storm picked up, like it was just getting started.


	3. Chapter 3

The time on Grace's Pip-Boy read 10:38pm.

They’d been huddled inside the room now for around nine hours by her estimate. The storm was still raging outside the boarded over windows. 

Grace's stomach gave another unhappy spasm.

“We should check out the other rooms,” she said, still lying on her back along the sofa. Nick’s coat was draped over her. He’d insisted she have it when he’d noticed her shivering as the night came on.

“Hmm?” Nick shifted from where he was stood across the room. He’d told her he was shutting down to run some diagnostics around two hours ago. Grace was more inclined to think that he probably wanted to give her a little peace in the hopes that she’d get some sleep. It always took him a few moments to catch up when his program was interrupted.

“Little late of an evening to play ‘Hide n Go Seek’, don’t you think?”

Another gurgling cramp clenched her insides. “Nope.”

Grace nearly tumbled right off the couch as she rolled over and on to her feet, Nick’s jacket getting caught up for a second around her legs. She could feel the sweat slick her shirt to her back.

“Need to find a bathroom,” she gasped.

"What?” Nick looked totally flummoxed for a second and then his big yellow eyes widened as he caught on. “Oh. Ohhhhh…..right. Sure.”

Clutching an arm around her stomach, Grace ploughed her way across the room to its only door. She figured there must be more rooms further up the hall. Please, dear God, let one of them be a bathroom. Even as she reached for the handle, Nick shot in front of her, his hands grabbing the top of her arms to keep her in place.

"Hey, easy now. You can’t just go barging around this place. We haven’t even checked to see if it’s clear.”

Grace blinked up blearily at him. She really didn’t have time to argue about this. She was fairly certain that the bottom was going to drop out of her any second now.

“Listen, I need you to hold on. I’ll go out. Scope around. Make sure there’s nothin nasty hiding in the corners,” he said, in the slow voice you’d use on a toddler. He pushed her back a step, then another. Grace closed her eyes and swallowed. Her stomach was doing a pretty accurate impression of the inside of a washing machine. Letting go of her, she heard him walk over to the sofa. There was the unmistakable click of the safety on a gun being turned off.

She hadn’t even thought to take a gun with her. Jesus, she really was the hardest woman to keep alive in the Commonwealth. The sound of fabric rustled in front of her.

“Just hold on for two minutes. I’ll be back by then. Promise.”

Grace clenched her fists tighter and gave a sharp nod. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could detach her soul from her body, like you hear about when people die and then come back. Maybe she could just float above everything, as she watches her corporeal form beneath her, shit itself.

Even as she was musing on this inevitable fate, she heard another rustle and then the familiar weight of Nick’s coat fell around her shoulders and she felt a warm brush of pressure on brow. Her eyes snapped open just in time to see him turn and reach for the door. He opened it only as much as was needed to slip out and, without looking back, the door clicked quietly behind him.

He’d kissed her.

Sure, it was the kind of kiss you’d give family. Or a good friend. Or the stranger next to you at Red Socks game when Frankie Goldstein - against all odds - knocked one out of the park; but it was still a kiss. His lips. Against her forehead. And he’d even done it of his own volition.

Grace clamped down hard and grit her teeth. She’d be damned if he was gonna come back and find her a mess. She’d rather her insides just internally combust. A roiling gurgle warned her not to tempt fate. She closed her eyes and counted away the seconds, thinking about how warm his lips had felt against her. How much more yielding they had been than she would ever have thought. His coat around her shoulders felt like a tobacco scented hug.

God, he’d really done a number on her.

A lifetime passed. Then another lifetime rose up out of its ashes and burnt itself out again. Grace was about to throw caution to the wind and go out after him, when she heard the door click and watched as the handle turned from the outside. Nick leaned in; his face partially shadowed by the door.

“Bingo,” he said as he swung the door open. “Down the hall. Second on the left. Seems clear - if a little grotty.”

Grace had started running out the room before he’d even finished speaking. The poor bathroom was about to have a lot more problems than being a bit grotty. She heard footsteps behind her. Oh God, he was going to follow her. She whipped around so fast he nearly stumbled into her.

“Nick, I need you to stay down here. Please don’t follow me.” It was Grace’s turn to grab the top of his arms and walk him back a few steps. The material of his shirt was so thin she could feel where the plates of his skin were joined.

“I can’t leave you down there all by yourself. It’s not safe.”

Her body was screaming at her. She was so close.

“Nick,” she gasped out, “I really don’t have time to argue. For the love of God and all that's holy, please don't follow me down there.” She ripped off his coat and shoved it into his arms, as she turned and quickly waddled down the hall.

“Well, shout me if you need anything,” he called after her but only got a slammed door as an answer. Nick awkwardly held his coat for a second and then, after a pause, he turned and went to stand in the door of the living room.

It was a good hour before Grace eventually emerged.

She was so pale, and covered in a bright sheen of sweat, that Nick automatically reached out to grab her as she passed, but she quickly side-stepped him with a shake of her head. Her eyes had a wide, haunted look to them.

“Let’s never talk about this,” she croaked, before disappearing through the door.

Nick took one final look down the hall and nodded, even though Grace couldn’t see it. He turned to follow her, the door closing behind them with an echoing thump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've recently come off of a strong dose of antibiotics. Let's just say that this was written from some grim experience and we'll leave it at that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, as was helpfully pointed out in the comments, there is some canon divergence with Grace. It's...complicated. She's more of Nate & Nora's friendly, neighbourly vault-cicle. Hopefully the odd mention of it doesn't throw people off. I am looking to publish a bit more of her story but right now, these little one-shots are tickling my fancy.

“Okay, best place you ever had a steak?”

“Well that’s easy. There’s this place called Benny’s in Chicago. Real fancy joint on Wabash Avenue, just down from the Tribune Tower. They did a porterhouse steak with a béarnaise sauce that was so good, I damn near proposed to the thing,” Nick said, the filament of his eyes almost had a misty look to them.

They’d been playing twenty questions now for most of the day. The light on the Pip-Boy shone 4:43pm on their second day of being locked in. Grace was surrounded by the disassembled pieces of what had once been a typewriter. She’d managed to salvage a good amount of screws and a fair bit of steel from its rather sorry looking carcass. Nick was sat across the floor from her, idly flicking through an Astoundingly Awesome Tales - Volume 8, which had been mixed in among all the titty magazines. Turns out the former owner of the house was both a geek and a bit of a perv. Grace wasn’t exactly surprised by the revelation.

It was Nick’s turn to ask a question.

“Hmmm,” he drew out, turning a page as he took a draw on a cigarette. “Oh, I got it. Last time you went on a date?”

“You mean other than this?”

Nick chuckled. “Yeah, other than this.”

Grace started arranging the screws by size as she thought back. “You know, it was something like three weeks before the bombs. A blind date I think.” Everything from before seemed like another lifetime ago. It was getting harder and harder now to remember that this hadn’t always been her life.

“Did the lucky fella have a name?” 

Nick’s question pulled her out of her wandering thoughts. Jesus, what was the guy’s name? “Yeah, it was Mitch something. Mitch Walton…or Wallingham. Wall-something. Nora set us up. He worked with her as a defence attorney at her office.”  
The laugh that broke out of Nick was so sudden and loud, Grace startled and scattered some of the parts she’d been lining up.

“Little Mitch Walstone?” He was laughing so hard Grace thought he might bust a cable. “Bout five nine? Hair so greased back the oil damn near slicked down to his collar? Rode around in a…what was it? A cherry red Rocket . Damn thing almost had the same amount of wax on it as he had in his hair.”

Grace smiled as Nick’s laugh petered out into a low chuckle. He wasn’t one for long outbursts of laughter. Best she usually got was a snort of amusement and an eyeroll directed her way. It was nice to see him really laugh like that. Even if it was at her expense. 

“That little weasel must have taken one look at you and thought that all his birthdays and Christmases had come at once.” Nick's eyes were stilled crinkled in the corners from laughing. That and the smile still on his lips made her stomach do a little flip that had nothing to do with the rad meds.

"I don’t think he was that interested in me at all,” Grace confessed. “I actually think he had a thing for Nora and probably only agreed to the set up in the hopes of getting close to her. Spent most of the night talking about her, when he wasn’t going on about his job and car of course.”

“Huh,” Nick’s eyes flitted over her features like he was taking her in. Maybe trying to imagine what she looked like before the bombs and the wastelands of the Commonwealth had taken their toll. Grace was sad to say that, other than being a damn sight cleaner before and having had a little more meat on her bones, she hadn’t really changed all that much. She’d never had the time for the pin-curled hair and the painted red lips. She’d just worked and when work was over…she’d work some more. Grace couldn’t look back on her life without bemoaning how much of the good years she’d wasted.

“Well, turns out Mitch was an even bigger chump than I’d thought him to be, and I’d pinned him as a real doozy.”

“How you’d know him anyway?” Grace asked.

“He’d be in the station every once in a while for a client. Use to feel sorry for the poor bastard that got him as an attorney. Boy wouldn't have known the fifth if it was tattooed on his forehead.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“I’ll bet that flame he held for your friend didn’t stop him trying to get a little more than a goodnight peck on the cheek.” Nick gave her a rather shrewd look. "Guy always came across as the handsy type."

"A lady would never kiss and tell." Grace gave him her best innocent look. Nick's own eyes narrowed suspiciously at that.

"Anyway," she continued with a shrug, "that was the first and last date with Mitch. He did call me to ask me out again but I'm honestly not sure I could take another night of him recounting the specs of his car to me."

"Well I don't blame you for that."

"What about you? When did you last...ah..." Crap. The question was out of her mouth even as she realised what she was asking. His last date would have been with Jenny. Of course, it would have been. Grace watched as Nick's face softened. He cleared his throat. She would have given anything to take the question back.

"Ah...how about I tell you of the worst date I...I mean Nick, ever went on instead?" Nick gave her a crooked little grin. He was also giving her a way out. A proverbial shoehorn to help ease her foot out of her mouth. Grace would gladly take it with both hands.

"Now that sounds like a story worth hearing," she grinned. Nick chuckled.

"Happened in Chicago, long before Nick moved over to Boston. Before Jenny. Might surprise you to hear that ol' Nick was even thought a bit of a lady charmer back in his day."

"It doesn't surprise me one bit," she replied honestly. That got a little smile out of him.

"Well, the gal was a server at a sandwich joint across from his old precinct. Real swell girl too. Always use to slip me a free coffee or a sandwich with a wink. One time she'd put her phone number on a napkin. Boys saw her slip me it with my coffee and gave me hell about it for weeks."

He was really into his story now. He would always drop the third person narrative when he was caught up in a memory. There wasn't a 'Real' Nick or a Synth Nick then. It was just him.

"Asked her if she'd go with me to see a drive-in movie. Thought it'd be a cosy way to get to know each other."

"Mmmm yeah, real cosy Nick. You sly dog."

He rolled his eyes as she smirked at him. "It wasn't like that. Anyhow, I pick her up at her house. She's all dressed up so glamorous like you'd think she was starring in the flick, not going to go watch it with some schmuck like me in a beat up old Corvega.

"So we're driving along, just chattin and listening to the radio. I'm feeling pretty good about myself. Right up until the motor starts making a noise like it's been filled with rocks instead of gas. The thing starts clankin an hissin and next thing I know, the cars fillin up with smoke and we both have to bail out of it in the middle of nowhere. Then, just as I'm up to my elbows in the engine trying to figure out what went wrong with the damn thing, the heavens open right up and started pourin down on us.

"So of course, we can't get back in the car cause of all the smoke, and there's nowhere around for us to get out of the rain. And the gal, well, her dress is all soaked though and all her make-up is running down her face. Was another half hour before I was able to flag down a truck that was willin to give us a lift back to the city. Poor thing, by the time I got her to her door, she was drenched and shiverin and lookin about as miserable as I'd ever seen a gal. She even caught a cold and was laid up in bed for a straight week afterwards."

"Wow, universe was really against you that night, eh?" Grace laughed.

"Sure was. Had to scrap the car too. Most expensive date I'd ever been on and I didn't even get a meal out of it."

"Bet you still got a goodnight kiss though."

Nick actually looked a little shy for a second. "A gentleman never would never kiss and tell," he parroted her line back to her. Grace couldn't help but beam at him. He was far too quick witted. It was nearly a minute before she realised that she was just sitting there, smiling all doe-eyed at him. With a flush, she started to pack away the screws and steel she'd gathered. Nick was still watching her, seemingly deep in some thought.

Grace's stomach gave a grumble. Looking through her supplies, there was a few strips of some kind of dried meat they'd picked up from the last settlement. A couple of jars of stewed mutfruit. A jar of slow cooked radstag with siltbeans. She pulled out the radstag stew and, getting to her feet, she waved it at Nick.

"Hey, I know it's about 200 years too late but uh...fancy that dinner? You don't even have to bust a car for it."

Nick quirked an eyebrow at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome," he said, getting up from where he was sat.

"Just don't tell the others. Not sure they can deal with the jealousy."

"Scouts honour," he replied, making a cross with his hand over his chest.

Nick didn't actually need to eat, so instead they just sat side by side. Grace grabbed her Pip-Boy from the couch and turned on the radio, both listening as Travis stumbled his way through his song collection and Grace slowly worked her way through her meal. The hours ticked by. They talked about everything and nothing.

The storm still shook the walls as it rolled though the wastelands outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I'm not from the US. Had to google steakhouses in Chicago. There is a place called Benny's and it's got a good write-up. Maybe one day I'll get the chance to visit myself.


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay, how bout this one?" Grace held up the magazine so Nick could see. He was trying his best to not look in her direction. "She's called Angel. From Denton County in Texas. She likes country music, going down to the rifle range and bareback horse-riding."

Grace finished reading with a giggle of laughter. The faded page of the magazine still showed the outline of Angel, posing on a saddled horse, tits out for all to see, blowing rather suggestively at the end of a rifle in her hand. Her other hand was tipping her Stetson as she winked at the camera. Angel was twenty years old according to her short bio. She was also a redhead. Grace hadn't tried Nick with a redhead yet.

"Will you stop waving that dirty mag at me," he grumbled from his corner of the room. Nick had his arms crossed as he leaned against the furthest wall from her, a sour look on his silvery face.

"I'm just trying to figure out your type, is all."

"My _type_ isn't gonna be found in some basement-dwellers 200 year old skin mag, I can tell you that much," he huffed.

"Oh come on. Some of these girls are really pretty." She lowered the magazine and continued to flick through it. 

Grace wasn't even sure why she'd decided to pick up the magazines. Maybe it was down to the fact that they were now well into their third day of being locked in the house with no indication that the storm outside was slowing down. Or maybe it was because she'd systematically went through the room and had stripped everything but the magazines and sofa down to scrap. Whatever it was, boredom was likely the largest driving motivator. Boredom, however, didn't explain what gave her the idea to start showing the salacious images to Nick.

"Hmmm, what about a home girl then? Got a Marilyn here from Chicago that likes 'sundaes and sunsets'. You like sunsets too Nick! Who knew you two would have so much in common?" Grace look up to gauge his reaction but Nick had firmly fixed a disapproving glare at the wall.

"Though, going by the picture," she continued, "Marilyn definitely likes her sundaes more. Sure is an interesting place to put a cherry too..." Grace turned the mag sideways as she tried to puzzled out all the whipped cream and chocolate sauce. From the corner, Nick snorted down a laugh and then scowled as if he was angry with himself for the lapse.

"Would it kill ya to just quit it for a minute?" His voice was back to its put-upon tone.

"Then how am I gonna know what to look for when we're out and about? How am I ever going to set you up if I don't know what your type is?"

"I don't need setting up, and if ever I do, I'm sure I'll manage to figure it out just fine by myself."

"Hmm...still, it's good to suss out the competition," she replied, trying to sound light-hearted and teasing, but the little stammer of her heart told her that she was treading too close to a line. Nick didn't have a response.

"I wonder why they didn't make magazines like this but for women, you know?” Grace continued, when Nick didn’t rise to the bait. “Jack the Soldier, strongly saluting with one hand and firmly gripping his gun with the other. Or maybe Joe the Fireman getting a good hosing down. What gives with the lack of lady pleasing material?"

"Well, I guess the fact that if a good-looking woman walked in to a fire station and asked them for an impromptu inspection, she'd get presented with all the eh...hoses she could ever hope for. Probably more than a few that she didn't too."

Grace looked up from her magazine. Nick wasn't looking so agitated now that topic, and pictures, weren't aimed his way. She really should lay off of him. He kicked off from where he was stood at the wall and walked toward the sofa. Grace lifted her legs to let him sit down next to her. As soon as he was settled, she eased her feet down on to his lap.

"What about us not-so-good looking women then? How are we meant to get an eyeful?" she teased.

"Well, I doubt you've ever had to worry about falling into that category."

Now it was Grace's turn to blush a little. Damn it. Stupid smooth bastard.

"And anyway, seeing as you were so fixated on my finding out my type, it's got me wondering about yours..." Nick said, running a speculative eye over her.

"Oh, I don't really have a type," she laughed. "I was just pleased if I found a guy that was still breathing."

"You like the breathing type huh? Well that's a damn shame. Looks like that rules me out."

"Well, desperate times and all that," she shot back before thinking. Nick gave her a long, silent look out the side of his eye. Grace pretend to focus on reading the articles.

The casual flirting between them was easy out on the road. You didn't have the time to mull over the words, to ponder the flutter in your stomach and question the warmth of a gaze or fondness in a smirk. Being trapped together was different. All you had was time. Nick's metal hand idly plucked at the laces on her shoe. Travis informed them that it had just turned midnight and he was clocking off until morning. Grace's eyes started to droop alongside the magazine still in her hands. 

A well-worn coat was carefully tucked around her. The Pip-Boy gently clicked to silence. The wind thumped a metronome on the wooden planks over the windows. Yellow eyes counted each slow breath in the darkness as morning dawned across a lightning scorched sky.


	6. Chapter 6

“Clubs.”

“Hmm?” Nick looked up at her as he lit another cigarette, a thin trail of smoke curling out of the gap in the side of his face. The air was heavy with the scent of tobacco.

“I put down an eight. You need to choose a club next.”

“Oh, yeah. Hard to tell what kinda card that is,” he mumbled back.

“Hey, I did my best. Didn’t help that the pen started running out half-way through them.” Grace took a swig of whiskey, trying to hide her scowl.

“No need to get all defensive,” Nick replied, trying to balance the makeshift cards in his hand. The tops of the cards had a tendency to curl and flop about. He drew one out, placing it down face up on the pile.

Grace had to lean in and squint a little to make it out. A large number four was drawn on each butt cheek with a symbol of a club drawn on the curve of the spine. The rest of the picture had been cropped away. Grace looked down at her own hand. A similar bevy of lurid images with pen scratched markings greeted her. She probably should have eased up on the booze when she had started making a deck of cards out of the copious dirty magazines in the room. Then again, without the whiskey, she highly doubted she’d have come to that brilliant idea in the first place.

“Anytime you feel like it,” Nick drawled, flicking the ash of his cigarette into a quickly growing mound on the floor beside him. She picked out a card from her hand and laid it down. A girl with puckered red lips and a badly drawn crown on her head glazed up at them. The sexiness of the image was rather ruined by the beard that had been scrawled around her chin and jaw in pen.

Grace’s stomach gave a loud, unexpected growl. Nick’s cigarette froze in the air, halfway to his mouth. Grace fidgeted a little and then took another swig of her drink. Her throat was pleasantly numb thanks to the alcohol. Her stomach wasn’t so easily fooled. Nick’s eyes wandered from her to the small pile of the supplies laid out by the sofa. The food was long gone now, the last thin piece of jerky disappearing at the end of the third day. They had two cans of water left. The blue Rad-X pill bottle was empty. The Radaway bag had enough for another two, maybe three doses, tops. The Pip-Boy read 8:53pm on their fifth day inside. Nick’s cigarette gleamed like a little eye of fire as it burnt down in his hand.

“Your turn,” Grace prompted, but he didn’t react. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he stared at what little they had left. It was getting harder and harder for her to distract him.

“You know,” he murmured, “I think I might go for that walk now. Stretch my legs a little.”

“I thought we’d agreed that would be an insanely stupid idea.”

Nick caught her eye for a second and then quickly looked away. He crushed the butt of his cigarette out next to the pile of its fallen brothers.

“Well sure,” he said, as he slowly stood up. He adjusted his hat as he walked over to the sofa to pick up his coat then turned back to her with a forced smile. “But that was before I was down to my last packet of smokes.”

“Nick, don’t…” Grace’s legs wobbled unsteadily as she tried to stand up. She’d been wondering why she wasn’t feeling too drunk and now she knew why. All the alcohol had pooled below the waist.

“You can’t go outside. It’s far too dangerous,” she continued, approaching him on unsteady feet. He had slipped his coat on and was tying it at the belt. She grabbed both his hands and tugged them down. “Please, Nick.”

His yellow eyes had a soft look to them but his mouth was set in a resolute line. “You think I’m just gonna sit around and watch you die?”

“I’m hardly dying, Nick.” 

“Look at you. You’re sick from the rads and half-starved already,” he said, an angry bite in his tone. He pulled his hands out of her grip. “How long do you think you're gonna last like this?”

“Sick and starving is just life now. That’s just surviving,” she said, throwing her hands up. Grace put a little too much frustrated energy into it and had to grab on to Nick’s arm to steady herself. He gave her an unamused glare. She matched it.

“If I’m not hungry then I’m queasy from the rads. Then the minute I take chems for the rads, I’m back to being hungry and thirsty again. I’m used to it.”

“Well I ain’t. An’ I’m not just going to stand around and watch you suffer; not when there’s something I can damn well do about it.” Nick pulled himself out of her grip and made for the door. Grace made a dash for it herself and, rather dramatically, stumbled into it before he could reach the handle. She spread out her arms to bar his way. She could hear the metal grind as Nick clenched and unclenched his jaw.

“Just give it another day,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“Then what?” he bit out.

“If things aren’t calming down by tomorrow then…” she trailed off. Grace couldn’t think of anything to say. She didn’t want him to go out. Not by himself and not into a radstorm. Not for her.

“Well?” Nick’s voice was sharp but his eyes were back to that soft look again. She hoped whatever resolve he’d gathered was crumbling, because she was on her last legs now. What little energy she had was quickly leaching out of her numb limbs. 

“I’m tired,” she mumbled, dropping her arms. She shuffled a little towards him and leaned herself into his chest, her face going into his collar. It was a dirty trick, Grace knew, she just hoped it would work. His coat smelled like an ashtray. After five days without a wash, she was probably much worse. “Just sit with me for a while.”

It took a few moments but at last he gave a wearied sigh and put his hands on her shoulders. Pulling her back gently, he guided her over to the sofa where she flopped down with a groan. Nick lowered himself next to her in a far more dignified manner. Grace tucked herself against his side, not even bothering to ask first. She let her cheek rest in the hollow under his neck. A few beats later, heavy arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. She felt the line of his chin against the top of her head. Metal fingers stroked idle patterns on her back.

Grace fell asleep quickly. Nick didn't have that luxury. He spent the long night with her heartbeat thrumming against his side and the spectre of the dwindling supplies a constant reminder of how little time they had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is a good time to start wrapping things up. It's been fun.


End file.
